Kevin takes both barrels

Thurs.25.05.06. Today we were faced with undoing the mess that had been left by Colin. We will never be sure that this butchery had been an act of pure malice, mischief, stubbornness or ineptitude. When the hinged folding brackets were fixed to the screen the overall size of the total unit was 100mm too wide. But, calculating that if a 50mm spacer was attached to both of the hinge mechanisms this vital extra 100m could be gained. On completion of the dry build this proved to be the case, the screen fitted perfectly, problem solved. It was then simple matter to re-build with fibreglass the sections of the scuttle that Colin had hacked away, to make possible the repair. The scuttle was now ‘made up’.

Effectively the screen should now rest in the correct position enhancing and not detracting from the overall appearance of the car. 

This day had also been interrupted by several visits to Slicks ferrying cars from one garage to another. At Slicks there is an amicable, but tense, arrangement between Kevin’s ex wife Pat, who runs the administrative service side of the garage, and Kath, his present partner, who is the chief mechanic on the shop floor. One is quite feminine the other, butch and aggressive. Waiting for Kevin, who at the time was completing an MOT for a customer, I noticed that a ‘Clio’, which had been ticking over for some time began smoking badly filling the yard with dark blue diesel fumes. I brought this to the attention of Kath who immediately switched the engine off; she then strode purposefully in the direction of Kevin expressing her annoyance at this over sight. “You know Kevin sometimes you’re a fucking tosser!” expressed Kath in plain but succinct English. Kevin glanced at the nearby client casually shrugging his shoulders in a kind of ‘same old, same old’ fashion. Soon after, with Kevin assisting as an additional driver, we left for the Renault dealership in nearby Chorley where I was leaving a car to be repaired whilst, at the same time Kevin was supposed to be collecting a part for the smoking Clio. Making our way back to the car we almost mowed down by Pat who enquired if Kevin had picked up the parts. “I couldn’t do it, I haven’t brought any money with me; anyway, I thought you had arranged for the bits to be delivered” replied Kevin feebly but honestly. “You know Kevin sometimes you’re a fucking wanker!” responded frustrated Pat. It seems that both women in Slick’s life are swearing from the same hymn sheet.